


12:09

by cornwallace



Category: Looney Tunes | Merrie Melodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornwallace/pseuds/cornwallace
Summary: Strange happenings in the middle of the night.
Kudos: 2





	12:09

12:09

-

How long have I been awake?  
A few minutes. Tops.  
But why didn’t I acknowledge it earlier?  
The light in the bathroom is on.  
The door is slightly cracked.  
Lola.  
Incapable of keeping her own privacy. Not understanding of other’s.  
But she isn’t using the restroom. The toilet is right in front of the door, and she isn’t on it.   
I can barely make out her outline standing in front the mirror.   
My vision refuses to focus.  
My ears begin to twitch as they strain to hear.  
It sounds like she’s mumbling to herself.  
What is she saying?  
Leaning forward, trying my damnedest to listen.  
She’s laughing.  
Laughing at what?  
It started out a slow and quiet chuckle.   
Now it’s building.  
Building into hysteric laughter.  
I can’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable. What do I do?  
I almost wish I hadn’t woken up. Wish I hadn’t noticed this.  
Laying back, staring up at the ceiling, the corners of the room dimly lit by the bright blue numbers on the alarm clock next to me.  
The laughter gets louder.  
Pulling the covers back up to my chest, I close my eyes.  
Pretend to be asleep.  
Pretend I was never awake.  
Trying my best to shut it out, and get back to sleep the laughter only gets louder.  
Eyes shut tightly, fist clenched around the blanket.  
The laughter gets louder. More wild.  
Make this stop.  
The walls start to melt.  
Her hysteric laughter is like glass shattering a thousand times over.  
I don’t feel right in my own skin.  
Something about this… it makes me feel sick. Sick to my stomach.  
Like I’m going to throw up.  
Oh shit.  
I’m going to be sick  
Without thinking, my body suddenly snaps into gear, jumping up with the blanket, and tripping on it on the way to the bathroom.  
Puke runs down the door, and splashes on the white tiles of the bathroom floor, as I push the door open, and stumble knee first onto the puddle of puke.  
The laughter is much deeper in here. It almost has an echo to it.  
Looking up at Lola, my heart starts beating at an intense rate.  
She isn’t normal.  
Her left cheek has been cut out. Blood covers her, leaking from every orifice on her face.  
And for the sake of god, she won’tstopfuckinglaughingit’sdriving me insane and I just want to fucking punch her in the face, and my hands are wrapping around her neck but she won’t shut the fuck up nomatterhowmanytimesihither,itjust doesn’t fucking 

stop 

InsteaditjustkeepsgoingandgoingandgoingandgettinglouderandlouderandlouderJUSTFUCKING STOP!

Sprinkles of blood and spit splash me in the face as I throttle her, pushing her through the shower curtain, and into the bathtub.  
Smashing the back of her head into the tiled wall, her skull cracks on only the second try.   
But the laughter won’t stop.  
So I can’t stop, either.  
He little head gets smaller and smaller, as her head and face become a discernable pulp.  
But she still keeps laughing at me.  
Dropping her limp body into the bathtub, I start to back out while trying to fling the brain particles off my fingers and back onto her.   
Wiping what I can’t shake off on the shower curtain, I run to the door that I don’t remember closing.  
And try to open the door I don’t remember locking.  
FUCK!  
Banging on the door, I start to wonder when this door even got a lock.  
Turning around to the blood stained bathroom, I can’t even breathe anymore.  
I’m clawing at my own ears, trying to force the laughter out of them.  
My nails dinging into the flesh, pulling the skin around them away.

I can’t even hear the sound of my own screaming  
\-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --over the sound of that fucking laughter 

-

12:09  
The clock reads nine minutes after twelve.  
I can’t sleep.   
There’s too much on my mind right now.  
How did things get like this?  
How did I allow myself to stoop this low?  
Shackjobs with Daffy Duck.  
Why on earth did I throw away Bugs? I was so stupid?  
Now I’m stuck with Mr. Minute, fucks me for about five, then passes out once he gets his.   
This is such bullshit.  
Daffy just lays over on his side of the bed, snoring and hogging all the blankets.  
He’s like a noisy rock, or something. Loud and obnoxious, but completely unresponsive.   
God, I hate this. I need out.  
I was a fool to give up on Bugs.  
I’m a fool now for being here.  
For not making changes.  
For not doing anything about it.  
For just sitting here, and passively letting him get away with the best years of my life.  
And he just lays there. Dreaming and twitching. Head probably filled with all kind of self-righteous bullshit.  
I hate you. 

I hate you so much.

Ugh.


End file.
